after school special
by the hikikomori life
Summary: Yamamoto needs a little help after class.


**after-school special**

After fifteen minutes of hemming and hawing and chewing on the end of his pencil and scrubbing at the back of his head in consternation, the only thing Yamamoto has to say is this:

"You know, you look kinda good in those glasses."

He stretches, sliding the worksheet away from him at the same time, and flashes Gokudera that shit-eating grin in the late afternoon sunlight. Gokudera closes his eyes and silently counts to five.

He opens them again. Unfortunately, Yamamoto is still there.

The things he does for the Tenth -

"Shut up," he tells Yamamoto, trying not to grind his teeth too violently. "Just shut up, fucking shut up and finish this question already! How long are you gonna make me sit here? Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than sit here with you after school waiting for the heat death of the universe?

"Okay, okay, calm down or you'll give yourself high blood pressure." Yamamoto pulls the worksheet back to him and picks up his pencil, wrinkling his nose. "I just don't really get how to do this. How do you use this formula, anyway? What's a _u_, what's a _v_?"

If he sighs again, Gokudera thinks, his lungs will collapse, so he elects not to. On the other hand, losing the use of his lungs would kill him and then he wouldn't have to sit here all afternoon losing brain cells every time Yamamoto opens his mouth. Decisions, decisions.

"This is the last time I'm going to tell you, so you better fucking listen up," Gokudera says. (Only for the twenty-third time. Not that anyone's counting.) "This," with a vicious jab of his forefinger, "is the initial velocity. This is the final velocity, this is the acceleration. See? Acceleration, it starts with 'a', I'm sure even you can handle _that_ concept. Just plug in those terms and solve for the displacement. Understand?"

Yamamoto mumbles something in the back of his throat that could be assent, and shrugs one shoulder, noncommittally.

"_Understand_?"

"Yeah, yeah, roger that. So," Yamamoto goes, leaning back in his chair to balance perilously on its back legs, "is this the last thing I have to do? Can I go home after this?"

Gokudera huffs at his bangs to blow them out of his eyes, reaching down to draw a stack of papers out of his bag. "Yeah, sure. I've had enough of you anyway. But you have to take these extra questions home and finish them. I was up half the night making these for you, so you better thank the Tenth, you hear me?"

Yamamoto straightens up abruptly, the legs of his chair slamming back on the floor with a 'bang', startling them both. "What, you wrote me, like, some story problems?"

"... A few," Gokudera says, warily. He doesn't like where this is going.

"No way, let me see~"

"Not until you finish this last question, I said -"

Yamamoto just yoinks the papers out of his hands, dangling them out of Gokudera's reach, and starts reading the first question in his loudest, most obnoxious voice.

"A Storm Guardian releases a rocket bomb at the origin. It leaves his hand traveling at 10 meters per second for two seconds at 45 degrees from north. It then changes direction twice, going thirteen meters at 80 degrees from north, then seven meters at 93 degrees from north. What is the final displacement of the bomb when it explodes - wait, what is this," he says, chuckling, "you wrote all this?"

"Yeah, I wrote it," Gokudera snaps, bristling. "What, not good enough for you?"

"It's not that," Yamamoto says, and smiles. He's got a strange look on his face, almost like he's touched, and Gokudera pointedly ignores it.

What's a little harder to ignore is the way Yamamoto crooks his index finger under the nosepiece of Gokudera's glasses to tug them off, folding them up carefully and setting them aside, lightly, atop the stack of home-made worksheets -

"The fuck are you - mmph."

"Thanks," says Yamamoto, about two minutes later, with a grin, when he's done kissing him breathless. He lets go of Gokudera's collar and sits back in his chair, looking awfully pleased with himself.

Gokudera scowls and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, trying not to let his face burn.

"Don't think you're off the hook with this," he mutters, "because you're not."

"I know, I know," Yamamoto answers, and just laughs.

**fin.**


End file.
